Remembrance
by Bittersweet Symphony1
Summary: Draco remembers his and Harry's first kiss ~ DM/HP slash ~ Sorry about the crappy summary!


_Disclaimer:_  

As much as I wish I did, I do not own Harry Potter or any related characters or indicia.  They belong to the wonderfully talented JK Rowling.  Please don't sue.  You wouldn't get much, even if you did!

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The Slytherin Common Room was packed with young men such as myself, waiting anxiously for their dates to emerge from their rooms in clouds of perfume and trailing skirts.  The Yule Ball had descended upon us again, sending the female section of Hogwarts into a fashion frenzy.  All that had been talked about for a week leading up to the big night was make-up, nails, hair and robes, and of course, who was going with who.  

Much of the male population at Hogwarts however, had been less than enthusiastic about the whole situation.  A shower, a quick swipe with a comb, and the donning of last years' dress robes saw them huddled grimly at the foot of the stairs leading up to the dormitories, wincing every time a shriek of delight carried down.  However, for the more refined Slytherins, myself included, the ball is a chance to show off not only our good looks and wealth, but our superiority to the rest of the school.  

I had ordered a set of new dress robes from the family tailor, and they had arrived just in time.  Pure silk, the black robes had ornate silver clasps in the shape of snakes.  On the back of the robes was a print of a silver Chinese dragon.  They were perfect – just the right length so that they didn't trail on the ground and get dirty, but weren't too short either – and form-hugging in all the right places.  When he saw me with them on, Blaise Zabini's jaw dropped.  I gave him a sultry wink and stepped up to the mirror.  Blaise always said my hair looked gorgeous loose, rather than gelled back, and I decided that 'gorgeous' was a pretty good look.  I brushed my hair until it shone, and stepped back.  

"How do I look, Blaise baby?" I purred.  

"Darling, I want to jump you right here and now – that's how good you look," Blaise replied with a smile.  I smiled too.  Blaise and I fucked occaisonally, but we weren't too serious.  In fact, we hadn't shagged in a while, since Blaise started going out with a fifth-year boy.  I sometimes found myself missing him, but never let it show.  Letting emotions show is, to my father, a terrible weakness.  I have been trained since an extremely young age not to show any signs of weakness – and if I did, the punishments were enough for me to never want to do it again.  

"Well, I suppose I'd better go down and let the fans gather," I smirked.  "Save me a dance?"

"For you: anything," Blaise murmered, pouting at his reflection in the mirror.  I smiled and licked his cheek before sauntering over to the dormitory door, flinging it open and heading downstairs in a sophisticated manner.  I could feel all eyes on me as I crossed the common room and stood beside the Common Room exit, waiting for Pansy Parkinson to finish preening.  

Pansy Parkinson.  The girl my parents adore.  I don't mind her really – I know everyone else sees her as a shallow, narrow-minded bitch, and to tell the truth, that's exactly what she is.  Most of the time.  However, I have known her since we were four years old, and underneath her vain, bitchy exterior she is actually rather sweet.  We were going to the ball together as friends – I had told her that under no circumstances was she to try and stick her tongue down my throat like last time.  

I stepped off the last step and sauntered over to where Vince and Greg stood, both of them looking extremely uncomfortable in their wrinkled dress robes.  Greg had actually been able to find a date for the ball this year, if Millicent Bulstrode could be counted as a date, but Vince remained single.  Perhaps due to the fact that the only words he seemed capable of emitting in the presence of a female are "show us yer tits!" 

"Draco honey," I heard Pansy trill behind me.  I turned around in time to see her tottering across the common room towards me before tripping over something in her too-tall stilettos.  Luckily, I caught her before she hit the floor.  

"Hello Pansy.  Nice shoes," I said.

"Really?"

"No.  Love, can you just take off the shoes and go barefoot?  I mean, I know it would be demeaning for a high-class girl like you to go barefoot, but trust me – it'll make you look even better than you do already."  Pansy looked up at me, obviously reluctant to take off the shoes.  However, she trusted my judgement, because she sat down on one of the green couches and untied the purple monstrosities.  

"Right," she said, standing back up.  "Is that better?"  I stepped back and cast a critical eye over my friend.  Her blonde hair was piled up on her head in elaborate curls and adorned with small white flowers, and her make-up was perfectly applied.  She wore a spaghetti strap white bodice covered with artfully placed sequins which glittered in the light, and a long white skirt which gently trailed on the floor.  She contrasted perfectly with my black robes.  

"You look gorgeous," I said honestly.  She tossed me a sultry glance, then smiled briefly and pulled me out of the common room door towards the Great Hall. 

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The ball was in full swing when we arrived.  Pansy and I paused outside the door; she straightened the clasp on my robes and I, in turn, patted a stray blonde curl back into place on her head.  She smiled at me, I offered her my arm, and we pushed the double doors open and strode through into the Great Hall.  Heads turned our way – we did make an extremely impressive couple – and I saw Blaise gazing hungrily at me, licking his lips, despite the fact that Jason, his boyfriend, was standing right next to him.

The hall had been decorated magnificently – it was barely recognizeable as the same dingy hall where we ate our meals every day.  Shimmering blue drapes hung from the walls, small palms, roses and ferns stood in pots dotted around the room, and, instead of the usual four long wooden tables there was only one, stretching along one side of the hall, laden with refreshments.  Where the teachers' table usually stood, a makeshift stage had been erected.  A large area had been cleared, and now sported a black-and-white checkerboard floor, ready for dancing.  A few circular tables, each seating about ten people, were placed around the hall, and most of them were already occupied by students.  

Pansy and I walked calmly over to a corner of the Hall taken up mainly by Slytherins.  There were no chairs availiable, and I while I certainly didn't want to stand up all night, I honestly couldn't be bothered playing the 'bad guy' and making sure seats were made availiable.  Fortunately for me, Pansy didn't feel the same way.  

"Get up, bitch," she snarled to a fifth year girl.  "Make a seat for the Head Boy."  The girl, her eyes wide, leapt off her chair and scuttled away.  "Draco," Pansy said, gesturing to the vacated chair.  I smirked and sat down.  Pansy then advanced on the boy in the chair next to mine, who, having seen the previous exchange, shot off his chair without her having to say a word. 

"If I could have everybody's attention for just a few moments," Professor Dumbledore said loudly.  "I would like to welcome you all to the Yule Ball.  As I'm sure you have all noticed, flying above your head are several slips of parchment.  Each one bears a different student's name.  In a few moments, a piece of parchment will fall down to half of the people present.  Your task for tonight is to share the first dance of the night with the person whose name you have received.  Does everyone understand?"

Professor Dumbledore lifted his wand and muttered an incantation.  Immediately, all the parchments spiralled downwards.  One fluttered into my hair; I retrieved it and my mouth fell open in shock when I read the name printed on it.  

I Harry Potter/I

I gulped.  Now, gulping is certainly not a Malfoy trait.  Besides showing a complete lack of dignity, the movement generally makes the gulper look as though they are doing a surprisingly acurate goldfish impersonation.  And Malfoys definitely don't do goldfish.  I quickly straightened up in my chair and readopted my 'I'm Draco Malfoy: Bow down before me' look.  

"Who'd you get?" Pansy asked, leaning over to get a good look at my parchment.  Her jaw dropped when she read the name, and she attempted a goldfish look of her own.  "Potter?  You got Potter?"

I shrugged.  "It seems that way," I answered.  

"You have to… dance with him?"

"I believe so.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go ask a certain Gryffindor for a dance."

Pansy arched a blonde eyebrow.  "Go ahead," she said.  

I stood up gracefully, and crossed to the other side of the room where I could see Harry Potter sitting at a table with some of his friends.  The Weasley girl was clinging to him like some kind of permanent attatchment.  As I approached the table, Seamus Finnigan looked up and grinned mischievously.  

"Ah, my dear Malfoy.  Can I tempt you with a small drink?" Finnigan asked, holding up a goblet of spicy fruit punch.  "I've spiked it rather nicely."  

"No… not at the moment.  I have something else to do first."  I turned towards Potter and the female Weasley.  "I believe I am obligated to dance with you," I announced.  "Ordinarily I wouldn't have even bothered coming over, but I'm in a particularly good mood tonight."

"Well, I don't know," Weasley said, smoothing her hands over her pale blue robes.  I frowned.  

"Not you," I said slowly.  Potter turned to look at me.

"Me?" He squeaked.  I rolled my eyes and nodded.  Sometimes that boy seemed to have about as much intelligence as a flobberworm.  

"So are you coming?" I asked, feeling rather exasperated.  Here I was, putting myself out to ask him to dance – doing him a favour, really – and all he could do was sit in his seat doing his own goldfish impersonation.    
  


Potter slowly stood up.  I held out my arm to him, ignoring the evil look that the female Weasley was sending my way, and Potter cautiously took it.  We walked over to the checkered dance floor – or rather, I walked and Potter shuffled along, a few steps behind me.  As we joined the other couples on the dance floor, I noticed we weren't the only odd pair; Justin Finch-Fletchley was dwarfed by Vincent Crabbe, Professor McGonnagal was glowering at a misty-eyed Professor Trelawny, and Virginia Weasley looked repulsed by the fact that she was having to dance with Gregory Goyle.

The music began to play.  It was a ballad sung by Celestinne Sorceress; I knew it well, as it was one of mother's favourites.  I lifted my arms, but Potter just stood there with his arms glued firmly at his sides.  I raised an eyebrow.  

"Don't you know how to dance, Potter?"  I asked with a snooty tone in my voice.  I smirked when he blushed and lifted his arms, refusing to answer.  I knew full well that he couldn't dance – I had seen him attempting to dance with Parvati Patil at the Yule Ball in fourth year, and I had seen him adamantly refusing offers to dance at every ball since.  I sighed and took one of his hands, then placed my free hand at his waist.  He put his other hand on my shoulder, and we began a swift waltz.  I was quite surprised at how much Potter had improved.  He had obviously been taking lessons somewhere; instead of shuffling his feet and staring at the ground, he actually moved with surprising grace and elegance.  I, obviously, was still the better dancer, but Potter certainly wasn't far behind.  

The tempo of the song picked up quickly, and our steps became more and more intricate.  Potter let go of my shoulder, and I pushed him out so we were side-by-side.  Without missing a beat, he spun back into my arms, and I leant him back in a shallow dip.  We righted ourselves and continued dancing.  Potter's forehead had a few beads of perspiration, and his messy hair hung down into his eyes.  A smile hovered on his lips as he twirled and stepped.  The song wound down, and at the last notes I dipped him, this time deeply.  The music stopped, and a new song started.  I still hadn't let him out of the dip; we were both breathing heavily, his eyes glistened enchantingly as he gazed at me.  I had a peculiar feeling in the bottom of my stomach – the same feeling I sometimes had when I looked at Blaise and I groaned inwardly.  I drew my breath in sharply when I felt a pull in my groin.  Too late, I realised that his leg was right between my legs – a most inopportune place for both of us.  I quickly pulled him out of the dip and berated myself for ordering such form-hugging robes.  

"Thank you," Potter said, smiling.  "You are an excellent dancer, despite the fact that you're a Malfoy and I most certainly shouldn't be complimenting you.  Just don't tell Ron I did, and it'll be safe."  I bit my lip and nodded.  Potter looked puzzled.  "Are you…" his voice trailed off and his eyes widened when he noticed the obvious bulge in my robes.  "I have to go," he said, practically running back to his table.  

"Are you availiable for a dance?" I heard Blaise's voice behind me.  "A sexy lad such as yourself shouldn't be partnerless on this fine evening."

I turned and Blaise smiled.  "My, you I are/Ipleased to see me, aren't you?" I smiled and ran my tongue over my upper lip.  

"I'm always pleased to see you, Blaise baby."

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My night had gone particularly well after the small Potter fiasco.  I had danced with a variety of people – as much as I hate to admit it, none of whom were a match for Potter.  I had eaten, drunk a little of Seamus' spiked punch, and generally had a decent time.  I had to admit, it was more fun than being the aloof, distant bastard I was every other day of the year.  

At around midnight, Professor Dumbledore stood up.  "Students and teachers of Hogwarts.  I trust you have all enjoyed yourself as much as I have.  I would now ask the fourth, fifth and sixth year students to depart to their common rooms.  Teachers, I would be appreciative if you would join me in the staff room.  Thank you."

The younger students and teachers all left the Great Hall, until only us seventh year students and Professor Dumbledore were left.  Professor Dumbledore looked around with a pleased look on his face.  

"I thought you might prefer to stay down and finish the night in each others' company.  After all, it _is_ your last Yule Ball at Hogwarts."  With that, he turned and left the Hall, leaving us alone.  

"Who wants a drink?" Seamus asked eventually.  He reached under the table and pulled out a large box, obviously full of alcohol.  "I stashed this under here earlier – I think Dumbledore knew it was there, but he didn't say anything."

I grabbed a glass and walked over to Seamus, who filled it with amber coloured liquid.  I took a deep breath, brought the glass to my lips and downed the bitter drink in one go.  I held out my glass for more.  

Not long after, we were all in a rather tipsy state, sitting in a fairly large circle on the dance floor.  I was squashed between Seamus Finnigan, who was constantly handing me more alcohol, and Blaise Zabini, whose hand was lazily massaging my crotch.  Directly across from me was Harry Potter, whose green eyes were constantly trained on me.  

"So, what are we going to do now?" Hermione Granger asked.  She hadn't drunk quite as much as the rest of us, probably to maintain her 'squeaky-clean' head-girl image.  

"I know… I know what we… what we can do," Weasley slurred.  "Play… a game."

"Yeah, a game!" Seamus exclaimed.  "What game?"

Weasley produced one of the empty alcohol bottles.  "The game… with the bottle… and it turns… spins…"

"Spin the bottle?" Granger asked, a frown on her face.  "I don't know about that…"

"Yeah, lets play!" I chipped in.  Granger frowned at me, but I really didn't care.  I was feeling extremely relaxed, with the alcohol in my system, Blaise massaging me, and the prospect of kissing a lot of people to look forward to.  Weasley put the empty bottle in the middle of one of the black squares, and gave it a spin.  It ground to a halt with the neck pointing towards Susan Bones from Hufflepuff.  Ron stood up, walked over to where Susan sat, and gave the blushing Hufflepuff a sound kiss.  Susan then spun the bottle and had to kiss Ernie Macmillan.  

I was watching with a sort of detatched amusement – watching Blaise grimace as Pansy Parkinson kissed him was rather funny.  I leaned back on my hands and glanced across the circle.  Potter was staring at me with a kind of half smile on his face.  I glared at him for a moment, then had a 'what-the-hell' moment and relaxed my face into an easy smile.  Blaise nudged me.  I turned to face him, and he immediately latched on.  I leaned into the kiss, and Blaise responded by running his tongue along my lower lip.  I opened my mouth and immediately Blaise's tongue was in my mouth.  

When we broke apart, I spun the bottle hard.  To my annoyance, it landed on Granger.  I crawled unsteadily over to her and gave her a short kiss.  I crawled back over to my spot, where I collapsed in Blaise's lap.  He kissed me gently on the forehead, and I smiled.  Granger kissed Weasley, who kissed Parvati Patil, who spun the bottle to Padma Patil.  Luckily, everyone decided it was morally wrong to see the twins kiss each other, Parvati spun again and had to kiss Lavender Brown, who had to kiss Weasley, who had to kiss Potter.  All of this happened quite quickly in my tipsy state.  The next thing I knew was that Potter was sitting in front of me, looking rather concerned.  

"Do you mind if we kiss?" He asked.  Bloody Potter, always the gentleman.  I shook my head.  

"I don't mind," I whispered.  He leaned forward and brushed his lips over mine.  I sighed, then grabbed his robes and pulled him in for a bruising kiss.  Our tongues intertwined, duelled.  Harry Potter, as well as being an amazing dancer, was an amazing kisser.  When he pulled away, I knew I wanted more.  I knew it was wrong to want more; I knew my father would kill me for wanting more; but still I wanted.  And, luckily for me, Potter gave me more.  Much more.  

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Today, my wedding day, I am more nervous than I have ever been in my entire life.  As I stand next to Harry Potter and say my vows, I stare straight into his beautiful, emerald-green eyes.  I can't help but remember the poem Ginny Weasley sent him in second year.  "I _… _his eyes are as green as a fresh-pickled toad_…_/I"

A smile quirks at the corner of my mouth.  Harry, seeing it, raises an eyebrow, but says nothing.  When the time comes for us to kiss, Harry draws me to him, but instead of kissing me, mutters in my ear.

"I'm not going to kiss you until you tell me what you were laughing at."

My jaw dropped.  I giggle and whisper back:  "I was thinking about your eyes, and the poem Ginny sent you in second year."  Harry laughs, and kisses me deeply.  And as I kiss him back passionately, and the assembled people applaud, I can't help but remember a very similar kiss – our first one.    


End file.
